


I Think I Feel Something

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas loves Dean, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel in the Bunker, Drunk Castiel, Eventual Fluff, Gen, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s09e10 Road Trip, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Secret love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam finds out his brother allowed Gadreel to possess him, the brothers go their separate ways. He thinks he has the bunker to himself until he comes back with dinner and finds Castiel drunk in the library. It seems Dean not only cut Sam out of his life but Castiel too, which the angel takes much harder than anyone expects. Sam realizes he's the only one who can help the two of them be together--an act of one brother who honestly loves the other in spite of their problems. Helping them repair their brotherly bond means helping Dean find happiness in his own right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I Feel Something

Sam didn't even feel the least bit weird about finally having the bunker to himself. He didn't know where Dean was and he really didn't care. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in a windowless underground hole with the man who couldn't even let him die the way he wanted. It was good for Dean to be cut off for a while, he told himself.

But he should have expected it when he came back to the bunker after a food run. He descended the curved staircase with a plastic bag of Chinese takeout, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and groan. There sat Castiel in the library, presumably lying in wait to lecture him about forgiving Dean for both their sakes. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, though, he swore Castiel swayed unsteadily in his chair. That was definitely odd.

"Hey, Cas," he muttered, dumping his food on the table.

The angel smelled like a brewery. A wall of alcohol hit him as soon as he flopped in the chair across from Castiel and his nose crinkled.

"Did you know the Men of Letters have quite an extensive wine cellar?" Floating, slow, unclear syllables cushioned Castiel's words. He smirked and peered at Sam through glassy blue eyes. "I found it behind the dungeon. I really miss alcohol. It's so easy for the human body to become intoxicated. Do you know how much I'm forced to consume just to feel a slight drunkenness?"

"What the hell...?" Squinting in disbelief, Sam's mind flashed on the other time he found that angel drunk. It took an entire liquor store. "How much did you drink?"

"All of it." Correcting himself, Castiel gave a sharp yet wobbly head shake. "No, wait. I left a bottle. The age made me think it would be worth money to you humans." Dark laughter rolled out of him then. "My existence has become ridiculous. I was a failure as an angel, and then I was human, and now I'm neither here nor there. Stolen grace feels quite strange." His arms sprawled across the table, slurring at Sam in a secretive tone. "Do you know my wings aren't even the same anymore?  _Mine_ were big. Impressive. Black. Now the stolen grace is making them smaller and a rather unpleasing shade of gray. What  _is_ an angel without intimidating wings?"

"Look, Cas, I've got enough shit to deal with about Dean and Abaddon and Gadreel and--" Sam scoffed and couldn't believe Castiel showed up just to drink himself into stupidity.

"Yeah, Dean.  _Dean_." The odd hybrid nature of angelic monotone and human mannerisms certainly did make Castiel seem neither here nor there. Abruptly, his dark head dropped on his forearm braced on the table and he let out a miserable, drunken groan. "I think I feel something."

"Yeah, you feel a wine cellar. Go lay down," snapped Sam, pointing toward the corridor leading to bedrooms.

"No, you don't understand. I found a disturbing emotion in my humanity and now I can't extract it from my identity." His voice muffled against the table sounded ridiculous but awful and sad at the same time.

Damn it.

Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. He really just wanted to eat his dinner and go read a book in bed, but he knew he wasn't going to get rid of Castiel in that condition. The last time he drank himself into oblivion, he'd lost faith in everything. He simply wasn't the type to drink for any small reason like the rest of the human race. Sam realized he wouldn't be there if he had anyone else.

"All right, I'll bite," he relented. "What's with you?"

"Not Dean," muttered the drunken angel.

"Speak English, Cas," Sam retorted, losing patience. His entire life seemed to sit on a hair trigger temper of late.

Castiel picked up his head and swayed in his chair. One eyebrow arched questioningly. "I thought I was speaking English."

Another sigh and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "I mean what are you talking about? Why are you so unhappy? Just spit it out."

And Castiel did, in glaring detail. "I feel an amorous attachment to Dean but I don't think I'm supposed to. The sensation plagued me the minute I became human, which means it was there before my grace was stolen, but I didn't understand it. How could I? I barely understood doubt and free will as an angel let alone the complexities of romantic love. When I stole grace for myself, I had hoped the emotion would disappear again, but it's still there burning in my chest." The sudden sobriety of his speech indicated the absolute truth in it despite his thoroughly intoxicated condition.

"Is that all?" asked Sam bluntly.

Castiel stared at him, head cocked.

"This isn't news. Everybody knows, Cas." He leaned up and fished through his bag of Chinese takeout. "Here. Eat a spring roll. You gotta sober up. Food in your belly's gonna soak up the booze."

"I don't require food, Sam," he said, eyeing the offered snack.

"Just do it," Sam insisted, somewhat annoyed as he had been for days.

Hesitantly, the angel accepted the spring roll and mumbled, "It tastes like molecules," like a child as he consumed it. "Molecules are disgusting."

"Have you talked to Dean about this?" asked Sam in an effort to hurry up and resolve the problem so he could get back to tracking down Gadreel.

"Dean doesn't want to talk to anyone. I followed him after the two of you talked on the bridge and he shouted at me to stay away from him because he's poison. He said it's his fault that I do the things I do and I keep getting into trouble. I tried to tell him that saving him from Hell was the most important thing I ever did with my existence." Quietly, he took another bite of the spring roll. "I wanted to stay with him and be of some comfort, though I'm not exactly adept at it, but there were tears in his eyes and he drove away."

"You could've followed him again," suggested Sam as he unpacked his dinner, deciding it was going to take a while and he wanted to eat.

"Yes, I could have, but I wasn't welcome. It felt like an angel blade going through my chest to watch him leave." He appeared ashamed by the admission.

Sam shrugged. "Well, that's Dean for ya. Things don't go away and he cuts out everybody he cares about. He's a big martyr."

Predatory anger flashed in Castiel's eyes. He clearly didn't like the bitter tongue Sam used to speak of Dean, but frankly, he'd have to live with it. Unlike Castiel, the younger Winchester wasn't romantic about him and didn't look at him like he hung the moon.

"Everything Dean does in his mind accompanies a desire to protect his loved ones," Castiel pointed out in that deep angelic monotone.

"That's the problem. I'm thirty. I don't need protection from my big brother anymore, especially when it leads to manipulating situations into taking away my ability to make my own choices. I was ready to die. I did more than enough with my life. It wasn't his call and it wasn't about me anyway. He did it because he can't stand to be alone."

Blue eyes still sliced through him even though he focused on his dinner. The angel said, "Well, he certainly is alone now, isn't he?"

Sam said nothing at first but only shrugged, chewing pepper steak.

"I need another bottle." Stubbornly, Castiel started to get up.

"No, you don't," replied Sam as his arm reached across the table and yanked Castiel down into his chair again. "Sit down. We're talking about you, not me. Now listen. I dunno if Dean's cool with you wearing a guy for a vessel or what but I do know you make him a better man."

Castiel's eyes lifted as if Sam offered revelations about the nature of the universe. Emotion flushed his skin and he began to resemble a human man once again.

The conversation took on a casual tone for Sam as he squirted sweet and sour sauce into his spring roll. "He goes down a spiral of booze and brooding when you're gone. It was the worst after Purgatory. Nightmares, moping, the works. I knew for sure that he was in denial about wanting you when he started hallucinating that you were still around." Pausing, he sucked sauce off his thumb. "If you were a chick, I'd have guessed a long time ago that he was sleeping with you or something." He glanced up at Castiel. "You're not, right?"

The question took Castiel aback. "No."

"Just checking." With a shrug, Sam continued devouring his dinner and Castiel's problem. "Listen, Cas. My brother and I have serious issues and we may never be the same after this but that doesn't mean I don't want him to be happy. You get me?"

"I think so," he replied.

"Okay, so get this. I know where he goes when he's cornered like this. You're gonna go find him and you're gonna tell him how you feel because he's an idiot about emotions and shit. If you don't make him understand, you're gonna be staring at him like a schoolgirl with a crush forever, and frankly, I don't have the stomach for it."

Castiel nodded but he obviously doubted the wisdom in such a cavalier plan. "I don't think he has amorous attractions to males," he pointed out, "even though I'm neither male nor female. He sees my vessel and refers to me with masculine pronouns. I'm a man in his eyes."

"You're right," Sam conceded. "I don't think Dean's ever been into guys. Thing is, Cas, he's into  _you_. I think you're a great team together. You said it yourself--you have a more profound bond with him than me--and he didn't deny it, did he? We're great friends, Cas, but I've always known my brother means the world to you and vice versa. You're never gonna know what could happen 'til you try. And right now..." he paused again, considering the state of things between them, "...right now he thinks he's poison. We both know he's not. He needs someone in his corner to catch him when he falls. It can't be me. It should be you."

The angel's descent into humanity again caught Sam off guard as he dropped his eyes to his hands and considered the possibility of acting on his feelings for Dean. Of course Sam knew there was a chance Dean could reject him, and Castiel knew it too, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten so drunk in misery.

"I would abandon this vessel and seek a female one if he asked me to," admitted Castiel, as if knowing no other way to illustrate how deep his love ran. "I'm comfortable in this vessel but it's immaterial to me if Dean requires a female to return my amorous attachment."

"I know." Though Sam felt like chuckling at the idea of Castiel with boobs, he understood that the angel meant it as a gesture of self-sacrifice and he stifled any ideas of humor. "I don't think it'd come to that. You're different to him. It's immaterial to you what body you occupy and I think it's immaterial to him too. I saw the way he interacted with Jimmy Novak. There was nothing to it and he knew before I did that you'd gotten yanked back to Heaven. I really think he sees you in there."

"You're quite confident that he returns my affection," Castiel commented in a low, doubtful voice.

Sam nodded. "I think he needs to be pushed but half the problem is Dean really doesn't believe he deserves anything good in his life."

"He does," the angel murmured.

"I know," Sam said again, sympathetic.

Footsteps fell behind them along the upper gallery. As Castiel peered beyond Sam, he went pale, making the younger Winchester follow his gaze and twist around in his chair. There Dean stood with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a bruised, calloused hand gripping the rail. Equal paleness bled from his weathered features, indicating that he'd listened to at least part of their conversation before they noticed him.

He looked past Sam straight into Castiel's fearful countenance. Sam knew his brother better than anyone and knew exactly when his presence was no longer necessary. Their own issues were so much bigger and complicated than the roadblocks between Dean and Castiel. He knew it. It didn't feel offensive as maybe it should have felt.

Dean made his way down the curving staircase, slowly, never taking his eyes off Castiel's face. He gave nothing away in his expression and not even Sam could tell if he was angry or hopeful. Most likely, Dean existed in a state of perpetual self-denial, self-loathing, martyrdom, with a sprinkling of hotheaded overprotection of anyone he considered important to him, as always.

Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, both Sam and Castiel stood. Sam wondered how gracefully he could make his exit, yet Dean strode right by him and stopped before Castiel. The angel avoided eye contact, painfully red and shuffling where he stood, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey, again," whispered Dean quietly.

"H-h-hello, Dean," offered Castiel, uncertain and ready to bolt.

The silence allowed Sam to back away, hoping not to make noise. As much as he wanted to stay and watch the saga unfold, he knew he'd already helped it along as much as he dared. In spite of everything, he still loved his brother. And he loved Castiel like a brother too.

"I came back to get some of my stuff. So, uh, you got something to tell me," Dean surmised, still unreadable in his expression.

Castiel hesitated but peered up at him shyly with his face tilted downward, always looking for an easy escape. "I ... um ... yes." Suddenly his spine straightened like his sails caught the wind. "Yes, Dean. I do have things to say."

The hunter nodded after a moment and, licking his lower lip, he drew his thumb down the corner of his mouth as if looking at an appetizing meal. A languid smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and something changed in his Winchester green eyes. It occurred to Sam that he already knew but he actually wanted to hear Castiel say it. The change in his expression told Sam that not only did he want to hear it--he wanted to savor the words.

Sticking his hand out to Castiel, his fingers made a grabbing motion. The angel's features turned from terrified to hopeful and back again as Dean said, "C'mon. Let's go for a drive."

The pair of them left the bunker together. Castiel looked back at Sam with a subtle wave of gratitude.

Even though Dean didn't say goodbye, Sam wasn't ready to talk to him yet either. Someday, he knew, the Winchester brothers would come together again from a new place--a healthier place. For now, it was Dean who needed a push toward building himself up as an individual with wants and needs. Sam was happy to help his brother along toward something he knew Dean wanted. That's what brothers did for each other, after all.


End file.
